


I Keep Pouring My Life Into These Broken Roots

by UniversallyEcho



Series: hookups the elite writers forgot to mention [1]
Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, For the most part, Halloween Costumes, Hate Sex, Underage Drinking, basically just giving Elite the wlw content we deserved, season 2 snippet in case you didn't clue in from the halloween costumes tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversallyEcho/pseuds/UniversallyEcho
Summary: “I swear to God, if you don’t—” Her voice is low and breathless and could probably pass as incredibly arousing if it wasn’t just demanding and whiny and annoyingly critical. Yup, that about does it. Moment passed.She shouldn’t be surprised that they have sex like they’re still fighting, all teeth and tongue and bruising grips, pushing their bodies uncoordinatedly together until they feels sparks of pleasure. Lu’s lips hunt and tug at her skin, hard and unforgiving, like she’s waited all her life to release her pent up aggression just now and Rebeka lets out sounds that she’s sure she’d be embarrassed about if she wasn’t too far gone already.Or; just when Rebeka thought her night couldn't possibly get any worse she spots an even more miserable looking Lu nursing a drink at her makeshift bar. If she can't have Samuel for the night, she might as well get the next best thing?
Relationships: Rebeca "Rebe" de Bormujo Ávalos/Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich
Series: hookups the elite writers forgot to mention [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834852
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	I Keep Pouring My Life Into These Broken Roots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cupcakeb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/gifts).



> The title is taken from the song "Broken Roots" by MichL because it's very atmospheric of both Samuel/Rebeka and Guzman/Lu's relationships.

Rebeka doesn’t actually hate parties. She thinks that’s an important distinction to make. A regular party, one _not_ thrown by her mother in a fit of concern over her daughter’s ability to make friends, is usually ample opportunity for her to spot out the people intriguing enough to catch her eye and use them as reference for future hookup material.

Normally she’d bask in the neon lights sporadically shining onto her face and dance offbeat to the ear-piercingly loud music until far after her feet have fallen numb.

She likes the kind of comradery that develops between a group of completely wasted underage teens. Nothing like shots of the most exorbitant tequila and pretentious vodka sodas to unwind even the most uptight prick long enough to get a good dance, and potentially an even better makeout, out of them. 

Today though, today she feels a littles less inclined to join the impromptu crowd using her living room as a dance floor and a little more inclined to go upstairs and lock herself in her bedroom. She’s sure rum and coke tastes just as good, if not better, from the comfort of her own bed. 

She makes her way to the little bartending area set up against her kitchen countertops, because if she’s going to drudge on through the night she might as well be drunk for it, when she spots a fuming brunette nursing what looks like her fourth martini.

Well, there’s that at least, she’s not the only one completely miserable here. 

“What’s with the long face? Run out of people to jeer at?” 

The girl in question doesn’t glance at her twice, the only indication that she’s even heard Rebeka’s insult being the small puff of air that leaves her crimson lips in annoyance, like Rebe’s presence is nothing more than another nuisance ruining her night. It’s hard not to feel small at that. Rebeka straightens her back and broadens her shoulders.

Eventually, Lucrecia turns around in her seat long enough to look up at her with a pointed glare. Lu’s eyes so irate that a small part of Rebe wants to take back her words immediately, continue the self-rescue mission she had planned before the distraction, and get the fuck out of there. A bigger part of her wants to stick around long enough to see what will happen if she persists this interaction. She thinks that part of her might be a bit of a masochist.

“What do you want lowlife? All of your friends get bored and leave?”

She’s not actually completely off the mark, but Rebe’s the last person to give Lu the satisfaction of telling her so, instead she makes herself comfortable on a stool looking onto the crowd of people, not giving her any kind of response in return.

They last about ten seconds before Lu sighs like she’s never been more peeved and theatrically questions, “Is there actually a reason you chose to sit here, or is it just part of your life mission to nauseate me?”

Rebeka snorts because the rapidly emptying glass in front of her would beg to differ, “Pretty sure I’m not the one responsible for your nausea.” 

Lu rolls her eyes and finishes her remaining drink with a single swing, surely in spite because no other explanation could reason the need for this level of alcohol consumption.

Rebeka places her elbows on the counter behind her, leaning backwards as she takes Lu’s silence as a conclusion to their short lived conversation. She does so partly to search for any decent human beings scattered around her house that she could recruit for companionship for the night, and partly because the monstrosity that is this dress is starting to rub her raw against the sides of her arm where the seam of sleeves start. 

She hates her mom for planting the seed of doubt in her head and encouraging her to wear the effervescent yellow costume, but if she’s being really honest here, she’s almost more upset at herself. For someone who’s constantly going on about being true to oneself and not conforming to the prissy majority of judgemental one-percenters, she’s kind of gone out of her way to present to the world the version of herself others have always wanted her to be.

She never wants her life to be dictated by how others will react to her actions. Speaking to Cayetana earlier that evening reminded her of such. 

Lu must notice her uncomfortable fidgeting in the gown because she snorts before stating, “You know I’m actually surprised you lasted as long as you did in that. I figured you’d change as soon as you walked by a mirror or something”

It boils Rebeka’s blood that the mean spirited girl can still get beneath her skin so easily. 

Her words invoke a primal response in Rebe and always manages to unmask the more cruel side of her, the side of her she usually tries to keep a little more under wraps, “Says the girl who wears a tiara to school. What _will_ you do when headbands finally go out of style?” 

“Please,” Lu chuckles, “like that’ll ever happen,” she adds belatedly, giving the smallest indication of her level of tipsiness. 

“Besides, I can actually rock a tiara. The same can’t be said for you.” Lu tugs on the end of Rebe’s side ponytail, smirking silently to herself and breaking whatever personal bubble they had individually established beforehand.

Rebeka grits her teeth and brushes off Lu’s hand, feeling the faint unwelcomed senses of shame and uncertainty. Which, fine, good, great, another entirely valid excuse to hate this bitch. Fantastic.

“Okay _princess_ , how about you come at me when you find your prince charming instead of sulking at the bar alone.” 

And, alright, that might be a little hypocritical of her and, you know, maybe kind of anti-feminist to imply that Lu needs a man to complete her or whatever, but the way Lu’s nostrils flare and her eyebrows twitch in irritation looks so uncharacteristic that Rebe can’t hold back an offensive snicker. She refuses on principle to acknowledge this as mean because, seriously, again, fuck this girl, she deserves it. 

Except it seems at that moment that the universe is trying to punish her for her snappy comebacks because Lu lets out a dejected sigh, unlike any noise Rebe’s ever heard come out of her mouth.

“Screw prince charmings. Men are useless.” 

Huh, look at that, it seems her and Lu do actually have a few things in common. If only their sole similarity didn’t make her heart ache as much as it did. The root of all of her problems, the reason she’s not currently enjoying the biggest party that’s ever been thrown in her name: Samuel García Domínguez.

At this point she's almost certain Samuel knows about her feelings and just refuses to put her out of her misery by coming out with a rejection, because sure, maybe Rebe's not exactly the best at revealing her emotions, especially when it comes to making herself so vulnerable, but she's also not exactly subtle. The lingering hands, unwavering gaze, irrational concern, everything she’s done to try to show him how she feels. Everything that she had to watch him reciprocate only ever with Carla.

“Cheers to that,” she mutters more enthusiastically than she feels, raising her rum and coke for a toast. She doesn’t worry about whether or not Lu will respond to her action, a thought she would’ve been more likely to have before their latest change in topic. Suddenly, the moody brunette seems more lonely than she is actually evil. 

The echoing sound of their glasses clinking is lost in the sea of noise closing in on them from every which direction. 

“It’s too loud here.”

Lu’s statement is abrupt, her movement getting up from her seat even more so, and by the time Rebe actually processes what she said, Lu is already starting to walk in the direction leading out of the living room.

Her arms are crossed against her chest and long gone is the previously lost look on her face, instead she’s back to her displeased expression meeting Rebe’s eyes with what she thinks might be an unspoken dare. Or maybe a threat. Most definitely a threat, “Well?” 

Rebeka is a lot of things, but reckless isn’t one of them.

Usually.

Reckless usually isn’t one of them.

She thinks she may have forgotten that about herself when she makes the decision to follow Lu upstairs.

Lu grabs her hand, a little aggressively might she add, once Rebe catches up to her and leads her way through the house. The way in which she maneuvers herself around rooms Rebeka didn’t even know existed yet reminds her that this isn’t the first time she’s done something like this. Rebeka’s sure that hidden hookups and stealthy exits from overpopulated parties were a regular occurrence for Lu when Guzman still lived here. Not that it’s any of her business. 

Rebeka ignores the way it reminds her that she’s always going to be an outsider within this group of tightnit rich kids who were raised together. Whatever, it’s not like she wanted to fit in anyway.

When they finally push open the door, Lu staggers a bit when she flicks on the lights, like she’s surprised to see the new furniture and decorations in what used to be Guzman’s room. Rebeka can almost hear the word ‘tacky’ cross Lu’s mind as she makes eye contact with her gold embroidered comforter. Instead of saying anything though she distracts herself by leaning close enough to Rebe that she can feel each of their alcohol soaked breaths against her mouth and whispers, “Ever kissed a girl before?”

And Rebeka wants to laugh at that because of course she would be haughty enough to assume she’s the first girl to ever tempt her before but she can’t even form a coherent retort before Lu’s forcefully pressing her lips against Rebe’s. 

Okay, yeah, she can see now why someone would be willing to put up with the spiteful attitude if each of Lu’s kisses feel like this.

It’s sloppy and messier than any of her drunken kisses have ever been before and she briefly wonders whether either of them are actually rational enough to make this decision right now. Her hesitancy doesn’t stop the way a thrill of anticipation shoots through her spine though and that’s exactly what she’s going to blame for encouraging Lu’s kisses with a hand on her neck pushing her closer.

When they both finally separate in a gasp for air and Rebeka catches a glance at Lu’s face for the first time since they moved upstairs, it’s scarily unfamiliar. Her lips are parted and slick, the neatly painted lipstick now smeared across her mouth, her hands gripping tightly at the waist where the corset of Rebe’s dress takes her in, her eyes dark and hazy and calculating but also shining ever so slightly with a pleased gleam.

It’s a little intimidating. 

It’s a lot hot. 

She thinks, with a sinking swaying lurch deep in her gut, that this might be a terrible idea. No, she _knows_ , this is a terrible idea. Worse than that night in freshman year when she bought alcohol that came in plastic bottles, who knew there was such a thing as $7 fireball, and spent the entirety of her orientation guide desperately searching for trash cans to puke in. The fact that the idea of them having sex reminds her of that sickening night, tells Rebe more about the soundness of this idea than she’d like to admit.

But, she's had a shitty shitty night and she's just about tipsy enough to do something she’ll regret in the morning and Lu is right there looking as desperate and needy as Rebe _feels._ And maybe the thought of nailing the one girl who has tried to make her life a living hell since she’s moved here also does something to her. Not necessarily something productive or very healthy but gratifying enough that Rebe can ignore the fact that the short brown haired boy she’d rather be doing this with left earlier that night with a certain marchioness. Besides Rebeka’s always been enticed by availability and proximity over emotional attachment anyway.

And well, they’ve always had that in common too.

So when she helps Lu with the snagging zipper at the side of her dress and Lu plants open mouthed wet kisses trailing a path to the bejeweled neckline of her dress in return, she hardly thinks of the consequences, just pulls the other girl’s black lace garment down with vigour.

They don’t walk to her bed as much as they stumble onto it, but once they do the air around them goes still, the thrumming music still playing downstairs barely registering in Rebeka’s mind as Lu darts her tongue to wet her lips and then goes back to skimming them over Rebe’s collarbones, meanwhile using her hands to move Rebe’s onto her hips, willing her to do something. 

Fingertips skim over Lu’s tan skin, goosebumps appearing when Rebe drags her nails down her chest. Rebeka finds it ironic how soft Lu is. How her hips fill Rebe’s palms as she grinds into her, how Lu’s chest flushes against her own as she shoves her tongue down Lu’s throat, how her thighs squeeze against Rebe’s hand in indignation when she’s too slow to bring her over the edge. It’s ironic that someone so composed of sharp words and pointed stares and piercing whispers can be so pliant under her touch. 

Rebeka has a very brief, very insane thought that she might have bit off a little more than she could chew as Lu’s breathing falters and her hands tug on Rebe’s hair incessantly. Because when Lu ultimately unravels on the very same gold bed sheets she had scoffed at earlier, her pupils expand and stare right through her and Rebeka very nearly drowns in them. She very nearly wants to drown in them, drown in her if that’s at all possible.

But before that moment passes, when she is still too caught up in the flurry of misplaced emotions to pick up on the hints that Lu is ready for them to move on, Lu notices Rebeka’s excessively hazed vision and snaps her hips against Rebe’s to get her attention. 

“I swear to God, if you don’t—” Her voice is low and breathless and could probably pass as incredibly arousing if it wasn’t just demanding and whiny and annoyingly critical. Yup, that about does it. Moment passed.

She shouldn’t be surprised that they have sex like they’re still fighting, all teeth and tongue and bruising grips, pushing their bodies uncoordinatedly together until they feels sparks of pleasure. Lu’s lips hunt and tug at her skin, hard and unforgiving, like she’s waited all her life to release her pent up aggression just now and Rebeka lets out sounds that she’s sure she’d be embarrassed about if she wasn’t too far gone already. 

She tastes bitter. Like unhinged spitefulness and alcohol and the kind of self-destruction that builds only after years of underhanded insults and feelings of inferiority. 

Lu’s got her hands on Rebe’s shoulders, if only because her convoluted hairstyle is too glued in place by layers of hairspray to attempt disentangling, and the fingernail marks Lu leaves with the undercurrent of such intense fervour should not leave Rebe as speechless as it does. 

When they both come to long enough to get their things together and sneak back downstairs before anyone notices, she’s certain that no one is even looking for her anyway but that’s another issue for another day, it takes her a second to understand what it is that Lu is staring so amused at. 

There is a behemoth sized rip on the side of her ballgown-like costume. A rip she is almost certain didn’t used to be there until she made Lu scream with pleasure.

She can’t even muster the vaguely threatening glare she knows she should be making at Lu.

In a turn of events Rebe undoubtedly did not expect earlier that night, she ends up wearing the yellow jumpsuit.

And tomorrow morning, when she’s so hungover that not even closing every curtain in her vicinity can dull the throbbing in her skull, and her mom leaves her 13 text messages telling her that new cleaners are coming to the house later that afternoon because their old ones quit unexpectedly, and she checks her phone 4 separate times only to be met with 0 missed calls from Samu, she will look back on this night in her room and genuinely question if it was a fever dream. Even though the very real, very sore, indications on her body prove otherwise.

Her only reasoning for her own thoughtless behaviour is that, well, it was halloween wasn’t it? Yesterday, of all days, she shouldn’t be blamed for being something she wouldn’t normally be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even going to acknowledge what I just wrote. This is what happens when I'm refused the wlw I deserve. 
> 
> (I have a tumblr theuniversezecho where I usually post and reblog much tamer content).
> 
> This is gifted to the ao3 queen of strange ships in the Elite fandom which got me thinking about what other ships Rebe could fit into and then I randomly wrote this. And also you can blame the existence of this fic on tumblr because I found one (1) person reblog a Rebe/Lu gif and fell instantly in love with the idea.


End file.
